Dreamscapes
by Renflower21
Summary: When Gilgamesh faces down the memory of his only companion, he finds Enkidu's reaction to the Holy Grail War is not as he anticipated. Set shortly before Fate Stay Night, one-shot.


When Gilgamesh opened his eyes, all he saw was sand, stretching out for miles into a dimming horizon that rippled, distorted from the heat.

Where was this land? It reminded him of Uruk, with its arid atmosphere and unbearable heat, but it looked more akin to the deserts of the south. He hadn't cared much to adventure in that direction during his reign, as little adventure existed in the miserable wasteland, but he'd heard the descriptions. And after his summoning, he'd learned a bit about the world's terrain, enough to know the accuracy of the hearsay. Still, he did not recognize the land in which he stood.

Gilgamesh bent down and skimmed his hand through the sand, scooping up a handful and holding it close to his face. As his fingers flexed, he determined the consistency and texture of the sand seemed realistic, and he felt the weight of its substance. Even its scent rang a bell, a call back to the earth he'd trekked long ago. Increasing the gap between his fingers, he allowed the sand to slip through and scrape against his skin. A near-accurate sensation, he noted, but not quite convincing enough. Convinced, he spread his fingers and emptied the miniscule grains back to the earth, where the wind picked them up and scattered them towards the east, a few tan pieces sticking against the white of his long tunic. He watched with narrowed eyes as the sand barreled along with the breeze, wondering if anything laid beyond the eastern border.

"Gilgamesh. You have not changed a bit."

The voice reached him before the meaning of the words, striking a chord deep within his body and resonating through his very bones. Like a siren's song, the melodious voice held such rapture over him that his will became indistinguishable with that contained in the soft notes. He stood still for a long time, refusing to look in the direction of the sound. He could stave off the pain of encountering its source if he kept his attention away, but he could not keep from picturing the face of the voice's owner, that image most embedded in his memory.

"Do you not wish for my company, my king? I think it strange, as you were the one to summon me here."

Forced to acknowledge the truth of the statement, Gilgamesh turned around to stand face to face with his long-deceased friend - the only companion he'd ever known, and the only truly worthy man to stand on the same level with him.

"Enkidu."

Though he already knew the outcome, Gilgamesh reached out a hand and touched it to the spot where Enkidu's long hair appeared. His fingers skimmed downward, but only air and a faint pressure touched his fingers, a mockery of the memory of his friend's luxurious tresses.

"No, just an apparition. As I figured. Is this a dream, then?"

If so, he'd recreated the image of Enkidu to exaction. The slim body stood just short of Gilgamesh's height, each limb a tantalizing paradox of gentleness and strength. That aspect of his friend had always eluded the ancient king. The man's face, though - that, Gilgamesh understood with entirety, every tiny detail. He could only describe Enkidu's face as perfect, both symmetrical and aesthetic in its shape. Each feature appeared exactly as it should, and his pale skin and eyes reflected the luminance in the man's soul. Once clay, the gods had crafted and molded Enkidu into the shape of a human, not deviating in any slight aspect. But due to the fact that it was so purposefully made, Enkidu's face could never succeed in appearing human. Many found it difficult to look upon such a countenance, with its unnatural impeccability, but Gilgamesh always found it to be the height of beauty. It reflected the true character of his friend - a striving for perfection doomed to fail by its very nature.

Enkidu looked upon Uruk's old king with the slight smile that always sat on his visage, as if it was the position his lips naturally fell into. He tilted his head.

"Of course it is. But does that mean I am not Enkidu? After all, what are you but an apparition of your former self, formed from perfect knowledge? As your knowledge of me is just as perfect as the Grail's of you, I'd say I'm just as real as you are, Gilgamesh."

Gilgamesh pondered the idea. It held merit. But then, since it had originated from his mind, he was bound to believe so. A fallacy indeed. As he held the image of his dead friend, captured it in his red irises as if he could keep it there forever, Gilgamesh knew he wanted to accept the explanation. He wanted to believe, just for a little while, that Enkidu was not lost to him for eternity. Besides, the explanation made sense to him, in a way. He owned everything of value in the world, and that meant his friend fell under his possession as well. Of course he should be able to conjure him up.

Though Gilgamesh wanted to feel happiness, or at least relief, at the reunion, the only emotion sweeping through his body was rue over the sheer emptiness of his reaction. He kept his face straight as he spoke to his friend.

"How strange it is, to dream again. I didn't expect that to come with this new flesh body." He observed.

Enkidu nodded. "Do you remember when we spoke of your dreams, so long ago? The gods blessed you with the most prophetic dreaming."

"But I could never decipher them. Not without you."

"Or Ninsun. But yes, I did enjoy interpreting your imagined symbols."

"Even as you envied me for being blessed with them."

Enkidu met his king's crimson eyes straight on, never flickering away, even at the sign of challenge. "Of course, my king."

Finally, a smile cracked on Gilgamesh's face, unable to remain still for long. A snicker slipped from him, as the amusement forced him to acknowledge his friend with something besides indifference. Perhaps he was just succeeding in convincing himself of the reality of this facade. Or perhaps he sensed a truth beyond what the situation appeared to be. He could not tell. Either way, it began to entertain him, so he wouldn't begrudge it.

"You too are the same as always, Enkidu. Feeling no shame for your shortcomings."

Enkidu reached out and rested his hand overtop Gilgamesh's. "It is not a shortcoming if it is done for the love of one's ideals."

"Even if those ideals should fail you?"

"But Gilgamesh. You are my ideal, and you have never failed me."

Gilgamesh's smile faded, receding millimeter by millimeter. The warmth kindled in his heart wanted him to take the encounter at face value, to revel in his rediscovery of his old friend's company. He felt as he did thousands of years ago, when he knew true happiness. But Gilgamesh was no fool, and his ego prevented him from letting Enkidu's words distract him from his desire to cut to the heart of the matter - which was, of course, himself.

"You did not come here to reminisce with me. Tell me, Enkidu. What is the meaning of this dream? You are a keen interpreter. What does this place represent?" He inquired.

Matching his own expression, Enkidu's smile faded as well. Something flashed in the man's eyes, a sorrow tempered with restraint. His lips tightened, as if he wanted to keep something locked behind his lips. Then, he replied.

"I do not think that is the issue at hand."

Gilgamesh's frown cut deep into his jaw, eyes teeming with an irritation that deepened the red swirl of his eyes. Danger exuded from him, so thick and effortless, not even under his conscious control. He held no malice towards Enkidu, and he never could, but he remained unable to keep his cutting presence in check. His dominance made any slight to his pride a lethal error.

" Oh? And what exactly is this issue, Enkidu? You have not hinted at it, and I do not appreciate having my time wasted." He said.

As always, Enkidu met the murderous outpouring of energy with nothing but admiration, a wide-eyed reverence for the king's dominance. It was as if he was unaware that it could cause his death at any time, that it struck fear into every other person who experienced it. Perhaps he just knew his friend would never exercise that extent of strength onto him. Gilgamesh didn't think that was the case, though. Enkidu met any representation of his ideal with reverence, regardless of the suffering with which it might burden him. Gilgamesh's grin began to return, delight coursing through his veins at his companion's expression.

"Perhaps we can start with you telling me about your life now. I know very little about the times you live in." Enkidu suggested.

Though he didn't like the redirect, Gilgamesh decided to go along with Enkidu's line of conversation for the time being. Besides, it was liberating to speak with someone of his own era, someone who understood him completely. Those modern men, they knew nothing of his rule, not even the ones that professed to understand his life. No one could understand, unless they'd seen how glorious his reign had once been. How bountiful Uruk once was. How beautiful the earth looked when he set his eye upon it.

"It's hideous. I can't think of another way to describe it. They've marred our earth with useless people and filth, Enkidu. It is a heinous sight to behold." Gilgamesh scoffed.

At last, Enkidu looked away from his king, staring out to the horizon instead. Gilgamesh followed his line of sight to the setting sun, the violent red and orange slashes bleeding the dark sky. He wondered what his friend saw in the image.

Enkidu whispered, "You wish to destroy it."

For a moment, Gilgamesh wondered if his companion's knowledge came from being part of Gilgamesh's mind, or if his old friend had figured out his intention from just those few sentences. Then, he decided it mattered not.

"Yes." He said.

Silence rolled in between them, a charged air that forced them still and yet tied them together. There was no awkward discomfort in that kind of silence, only the mutual understanding and patience of two souls so tightly bound that they needed no speech to convey their state of mind. Though Enkidu's face hadn't shifted, Gilgamesh saw the sorrow, the regret, the miniscule trace of anger in his friend, in the way the light hit his pale optics, in the very way he breathed. He knew Enkidu's body better than even his own.

Irritation tugged at the king at the realization that his friend disapproved of his plans, and the snap of temper contorted his face. It wished to burst out of him, to whip out and destroy whatever had irked his ego, but with great deliberation, he kept it in check. Only for Enkidu, had he ever been able to exert such control. He'd afford his friend patience. As king, he had the ability and the right to make that decision.

Finally, Enkidu spoke. "Destroying these people will not bring you the pleasure you think it will, Gilgamesh."

At the answer, Gilgamesh's lips receded to bear the clenched white of his teeth. His eyes narrowed, the slits of his pupils shrinking.

"You don't know that. And perhaps pleasure is not my only goal. I am enacting my form of justice, after all." He rebuked.

Enkidu did not waver beneath the glare. "Justice? For what crime?"

"You don't understand, Enkidu. This world, these people are so _useless_. They're ugly and live meaningless lives, steeped in nothing of value. They're nothing like you." He said, frustration radiating from him.

Enkidu frowned. "No one ever will be, though. And you think killing them for that is justice because - "

" -because they _stole _you from me." Gilgamesh spat.

"They did - "

"They stole you and now they've replaced you and defiled the memory of your life with their own pitiful lives. This is what they supplant you with. This is what our legend has given way to. What about that do you not understand?"

"I think -"

"I don't need to rationalize my will to you, Enkidu. But you should know, and you should understand my disgust. My goal is to restore the beauty this world had when we ruled it together. The beauty I owned that those mongrels _stole_."

"I -"

"Let me explain, as king, the way -"

Enkidu's eyes narrowed, his smooth face growing tense. He took a step forward and stood on the tip of his toes, so that his nose nearly pressed against the taller man's. His light eyes shone into Gilgamesh's, breaking down the dark malice within them and rendering him paralyzed. The words halted and tumbled back down his throat, a sensation much like that of choking.

"You will not interrupt me again." Enkidu stated.

Gilgamesh's face contorted even further, the creases of anger fracturing the kingly elegance of his features. Every muscle in his face and body wound tight. Did this man _dare _show such insolence in his presence?

Taking advantage of Gilgamesh's momentary shock, Enkidu pressed on. "What you speak of. Isn't that more revenge than justice?"

"Coming from the king, there is no difference." Gilgamesh snapped.

"Isn't there?"

"No. There isn't."

The two stared at each other for a long minute, not so much a contest as a measure of scrutiny, each trying to pinpoint what exactly laid at the root of the other's objections. After the time passed, Enkidu stepped back, his face held taut. When he spoke again, every word came out carefully, but he could not expunge the rue from his tone.

"You blame them for stealing me from the earth. From you. Your justice states that the people who 'stole' my beauty deserve death."

"You simplify my concepts. But yes."

"But my king, do you not realize? That it was you, the one who ended my life?"

At the question, like a slap in the face, Gilgamesh found he could not breathe. His skin felt too small for his body, every nerve under his flesh on fire. He wanted to force the fury out of him, to tear the words from existence, but he could not move.

"It was your impertinence towards the gods that earned their scorn. I was not punished with death for my own actions. I was not punished at all. In my death, it was you who was punished, my Gilgamesh. Is it not you, then, that deserves retribution, by your own absolute judgement?" Enkidu asked, keeping his voice perfectly flat. Only his eyes betrayed the immense depths of grief the words instilled.

Gilgamesh forced his lips to move. "You forget yourself."

With a shake of his head, Enkidu said, "No. Gilgamesh, I see that you do."

Pushed to the limit, the restraints on his indignation snapped with the direct contradiction to his words, Gilgamesh's vision flooded red. He rocked back on his heels, drawing his hands back as his muscles tensed even further. Then, he sprang, pushing his hands forward and tackling the space where Enkidu stood.

Rather than the strong body he expected, Gilgamesh's form hit only the air, and he tumbled down onto the earth, his skin slamming against the sandy ground with a muffled _thump_. No pain penetrated his body, but the sand sullied his clothes and blurred his vision. Frustration roiling inside him, Gilgamesh got to his knees and rammed a fist into the ground, which should have shattered his knuckles. Instead, the sand shifted to accommodate and then bury his fingers like a cushion.

Staring at the formless grains, he yelled at the other man, "You aren't Enkidu. He'd never say such a thing, would never insult me this way. You're nothing but a fake. A bastardly _fake_."

And from the other man, a whisper.

"Have you forgotten me so easily?"

Gilgamesh grit his teeth and slashed a hand across the earth, forcing a pile of sand off to the side. He shot back,"How dare you. Everything I do is for Enkidu. Everything is for that memory."

"Then it must be someone else, you speak of. Because I'd never want this. You know I'd never want this." He said.

Gilgamesh snapped his head towards Enkidu, the anger in his face replaced with pain that darkened every shadow of his face, made lighter the red of his eyes. Grief stabbed at his heart, his body, and when he looked to Enkidu, for a moment he swore he could see a maggot crawl out from the figure's lips. His eyes burst wide as his breathing came in staccato rasps.

"You think that I give a _damn_ what you'd want? You never understood true justice, or what it really meant to be king, to wield that unfathomable burden and that power at once. That's why you failed, why you were _destined_ to fail, at your reaching. I know what's right for your memory, and I alone." Gilgamesh barked.

"I seem to recall you caring very much what I thought, once upon a time." Enkidu said.

"And look where that got us. Look where it got you. It killed you. Your foolish will killed you, and now you want me to follow it."

"No. I've already told you. Your will killed me."

Gilgamesh's pitch increased, becoming more shrill with every word. "It was not my fault. It was the gods. It was the wretched _gods_. I had no hand in it." He shrieked.

"First it was the men of earth. Then it was my fault. Now it is the gods' fault. You used to be much more eloquent, Gilgamesh. Where has your dignity gone?" Enkidu pressed.

"Eloquence will not save you."

"Nothing will save me. I'm gone. My king, I am gone."

At that, Gilgamesh's body trembled, though he could not tell if it was from anger or grief. He thought of his body passing through Enkidu's as if it was air, and it reminded him of the truth. The vision of his death so many years ago played in his mind, just as it did on the lowest of his days, like a repeating film he could not get to stop.

"You know I am gone, correct?"

"Of course I do. How dare you think I could ever forget." Gilgamesh snapped.

A silence followed. Then, as if surprised, "Something is eating away at you. There is something degrading you from the inside out, and I do not know what it is."

Slowly, Gilgamesh rose to his feet and walked over to stand just inches from his companion. He stared at the man and widened his eyes, lowering his guard just enough to allow his soul mate a glimpse at what he held locked deepest inside himself. A slight tremble still ran through his body.

All irritation fled Enkidu's expression. The sorrow remained, but so too returned the quiet reverence that Gilgamesh had always coveted from his companion. He looked into the king's eyes with the clean gaze of full understanding.

"I see. I owe you an apology, Gilgamesh. You carry great suffering inside you. I spoke as if I knew everything, but I did not. I said you ought to put yourself beneath justice. But you have already given yourself the harshest punishment I could imagine."

Gilgamesh inclined his head, but clamped his mouth shut. He'd said his share.

Then, "Is there a woman, my king?"

At the sudden subject change, Gilgamesh's voice reverted back to its controlled state. "In a way. I have yet to capture her matrimony, however."

` Enkidu's lips tugged into a frown. "I was afraid so. She will not replace me, you know."

"It's the closest I'll ever come, is it not?"

"Not until you remember who it is that I was, and what I stood for."

"Do you feel jealousy, my Enkidu?"

His companion shook his head. "Of course not. You had many women while we stood together. Monogamy is not a representation of love. I feel sorry for her, is all."

Gilgamesh frowned. "Because I will break her?"

"Because I can no longer get through to you."

Enkidu extended a hand and placed it upon Gilgamesh's cheek, caressing it. But all the man could feel was a brush of air. Then, Enkidu added, "I wish I could take away that which burdens you. I wish I could put you back on the right path. But I am too late. I have lost my purpose to you."

Gilgamesh shook his head, throwing both hands over where the image of Enkidu's laid. He tried to press the man's hand tighter against his cheek, but he still could not make himself feel even a hint of his friend's skin's smooth warmth.

"That's not true, Enkidu. You haven't lost your purpose. It's exactly as it was so many years ago. Stay here with me, let us meet here at night, at least. You can get through to me yet." He offered, the most pleading words the arrogant man could ever give.

But Enkidu, who knew full well the value of his king's words, only shook his head. "No. It doesn't work that way, my Gilgamesh."

"But it can. It can." He insisted.

"I'm sorry. I truly am. Even in this state, I still love you. I hope knowing that alleviates some of your struggle."

Gilgamesh's grip on Enkidu's fingers tightened, to the point where it should crush a flesh and bone hand. "You know I love you as well. You are the most beautiful artifact I could ever possess."

"I know. That's why I have to leave."

Enkidu withdrew his hand as easily as if Gilgamesh wasn't touching it at all. He cast one last look at his former ally, before turning around and walking off towards the eastern edge of the horizon.

"Come back!" Gilgamesh barked.

There was no answer. Enkidu did not even slow.

"As king, I command you to come back. Obey my will, Enkidu." He called.

But there wasn't even an image of his friend anymore, as if the wind had scattered even the particles of his image. All that remained was the swirling sand. Gilgamesh sunk to his knees and picked up a handful of the sand, as he had done at the beginning of his dream. This time, it only took an instant for the grains to slip through his fingers like a sieve and follow his friend eastward.

There was a wetness on his cheek, but he could not comprehend why. He had lost all sensations of the flesh.

"Enkidu." He whispered.

A flash of purity overcame his face, shining with clarity as if he was the same as the man who ruled Uruk thousands of years before. For the first time in a while, his lungs felt clear again, the vice clamped around his heart loosened. His friend's name rolled over his tongue with a sweet taste.

"Enkidu."

And then it was gone, and his visage twisted into an ugly snarl.

"I will show you the error of your judgment. I will show you that my rule is always correct."

And then, a whisper.

"I will show you."


End file.
